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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28942914">Day 7 - Spin the Bottle with Oliver Wood</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalcrimescene/pseuds/musicalcrimescene'>musicalcrimescene</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Harry Potter 12 Days of Christmas [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>12 Days of Christmas, Drinking, Drinking Games, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friends with the Gryffindor gang, Getting Together, Gryffindor won the match, Kissing, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Pining, Quidditch, Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw Reader, Romance, Spin the Bottle, Wearing His Shirt, because of course, of course, they're more acquaintances</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:15:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,056</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28942914</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalcrimescene/pseuds/musicalcrimescene</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite being a Ravenclaw with better things to do, after a quidditch match Reader's Gryffindor friends convince her to attend their celebratory party, wear a stranger's shirt to fit in with the crowd, and play spin the bottle.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oliver Wood/Original Female Character(s), Oliver Wood/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Harry Potter 12 Days of Christmas [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055726</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Day 7 - Spin the Bottle with Oliver Wood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ok so I wrote this way late at night and then passed out lol so it's either gonna be pretty good or pretty bad, there's no telling.</p><p>Two posts in one day! Incredible! We haven't seen this in quite a while and probably won't again for a bit bc school just started back up and who knew that Philosophy could be difficult?? I do not enjoy it, but I gotta get those gen ed requirements.</p><p>Also, What house do you want to see more of? I do Gryffindor a lot because my three boys belong there, but I feel bad for neglecting other houses. I’m personally attached to Hufflepuff of course, I’ve gotta have some house pride, but I feel like I’m leaving Ravenclaw and Slytherin in the dust :( I don’t wanna do that! I love all the houses and want to include characters from all four of them!</p><p>Editing? Don't know her. Hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There are three main facts that explain the events of tonight.</p><p>It’s a Saturday night, the Gryffindors are bad influences, and you are drunk. Well, maybe not drunk so much as you are tipsy. Slightly inebriated, you think as you let yourself fall backwards, landing on the plush couch by the (smartly) empty fireplace. But definitely not drunk.</p><p>Funnily enough, in about an hour you’ll desperately change your opinion on your level of sobriety, because of course you would never do anything so stupid unless you’re completely smashed.</p><p>But for now you’re leaning into the too-stuffed couch, surrounded by your friends, hands down the waistband of your skirt - you don’t have pockets in this skirt and you’re really not sure what to do with your hands - with your eyes roaming the unfamiliar common room. Your gaze flickers back down to the glass in your hand. Only slightly inebriated. You take another sip.</p><p> </p><p>When Gryffindor won the quidditch match earlier today, you didn’t expect to be so excited about it. After all, it’s not your house and so it should hardly matter at all to you. Unfortunately, despite being in Ravenclaw and having better things to do, not caring about quidditch doesn’t fly when your overly attached friends are on the team. As soon as the players marched back to the castle post-match, freshly washed and eager to celebrate their victory, Alicia, Katie, and Angelina cornered you in the kitchens and practically ordered you to come to the Gryffindor party tonight.</p><p>As you considered their offer, munching on your afternoon snack while doing so, you came upon one problem.</p><p>“I’m a Ravenclaw,” you get out around the food in your mouth. You tilt your head and swallow your bite. The house elves know how to make a brilliant Rosemary loaf. “And as far as I remember, we’re not exactly allowed in a common room that isn’t our own.”</p><p>Alicia simply shrugged as if this was a simple technicality. Though, as there were no official rules against it, you suppose it was.</p><p>“Easy,” she says, stealing a piece of your bread. “Just wear casual clothes and we’ll give you a red jumper or something and you’ll blend right in.” Deciding you might as well play along, you agreed easily after that as the conversation turned into a recounting of the day’s match.</p><p>A few hours later you found yourself standing outside the Gryffindor common room in a plain black skirt and white t-shirt tucked in, trying to look as casual as you could. Yeah, I belong here you though as a pair of red-wearing sixth years opened the portrait to their common room. I’m totally a Gryffindor,  just look at my huge ego. Go lions! Go… bravery!</p><p>You were saved from your self-induced embarrassment when Katie slipped out from behind the portrait, clutching a red article of clothing. She grinned when she saw you, quickly tossing the shirt your way.</p><p>“Hey, so we totally forgot to grab a jumper of our own, but luckily this was lying around in the common room and I figured it was good enough…” You stop listening to her as you unfurl the shirt in your hands, eventually holding it out in front of. You frown in exasperation, lowing the shirt and giving Katie a blank look.</p><p>She’s also noticed what the shirt is by now and looks as though she’s trying to hold back laughter. Bretrayer. And I call her my friend…</p><p>You leave Katie to her laughing as you sigh and tug it on anyway, watching the way the fabric falls down your body the way that a much too large shirt would. You notice that it smells like pine and the outdoors and some kind of deodorant. It smells bloody incredible, sweet Merlin. Where did she get this?</p><p>“Katie…” You say, warily lifting your hands that are covered by the sleeves. “Why did you give you a quidditch jersey? And, more importantly, whose is it?” Katie’s only response is more laughter and you roll your eyes at your friend. This better not be a Weasley’s or I’ll never hear the end of it.</p><p>Resigning yourself to your fate, you rolled up the sleeves until they fell mid-forearm and tucked the hem into your skirt so you looked more presentable and less like you’re shagging one of the players. After making your adjustments, you decide that you actually look pretty good despite it being a (hopefully unused) quidditch jersey of all things.</p><p>Shrugging, you grab a still laughing Katie and tug her over to the portrait, waiting patiently as she gives the password that you pretend not to hear. Once the Fat Lady swings the door open, you almost immediately regret agreeing to come.</p><p>There in front of you is the most stereotypical party scene you could have imagined. Prideful banners hang from the walls, the year’s hit songs are playing at an unreasonable volume, and you’re pretty sure at least two boys are shirtless in the crowd. </p><p>Katie seems completely unperturbed by this and begins dragging you inside, letting the portrait swing shut behind you. She looks around for a moment before dragging you through the crowd and over to the side of the common room where a circle of your friends are standing. </p><p>All it takes is one look-over and Fred and George Weasley are practically in hysterics over your outfit. You roll your eyes and punch them both in the arms until they shut up. Alicia and Angelina simply giggle at your appearance. You’re sure they’re just as curious as you are to the owner of the jersey.</p><p>“Look at you, covered in Gryffindor pride! How’s it feel to be a lion, love?” Fred leans his arm on your shoulder and you laugh, nudging him off.</p><p>“It feels like my IQ has dropped down to about half of what it previously was, but I will admit, I look good in red.” The group laughs at that, only taking slight offense to your jab on their intelligence, and after a few minutes you have a drink in your hand and are laughing as hard as the rest of them.</p><p>Over time the group changes, some people leaving and others joining. At one point the girls manage to drag you into the crowd of drunk dancers and it takes surprisingly little to get you to loosen up. Your hands are in the air, your hips are swinging, and you’re fairly certain you’ve never laughed this much in such a short amount of time. It’s easy to do so, you find, when three of your friends are consistently hyping one another up with comments such as, “yes, you’re the bloody queen!” and “to hell with blokes, we do what we want!” Thrilling, it was.</p><p>You’re almost upset when Angelina grabs your hand and pulls you aside for a moment to whisper in your ear. “Don’t look now, but a certain someone is looking at you.” You resist the urge to be completely obvious about your search for the certain someone Angelina is talking about, but you force yourself to take your time. After finishing the rest of the drink you had in your hand (was this your fourth? Or maybe your fifth?) you twirl your hips and spin around, slowly glancing around the room for anyone who seems to be staring at you.</p><p>When you find deep brown eyes looking into your own, your heart takes a moment to stutter. At the edge of the room, talking to a distraught Percy, stands Oliver Wood, captain and quidditch connoisseur. Your eyebrows shoot up and after a moment the sides of your mouth follow, your lips forming a quirked grin. This reaction never would have happened if not for the firewhiskey in your system, but damn if your stomach isn’t fluttering.</p><p>You’ve spoken to Wood a handful of times, mostly about lessons and potions, a subject he particularly struggles with. Despite being able to count your interactions with him on one hand, Oliver has still been the object of your minor affections for well over a year. You wouldn’t go so far as to say you fancied him, but you could certainly appreciate how fit he is. Plus you find his passion for quidditch maddeningly attractive.</p><p>And now here you are, drunk - slightly inebriated - in the Gryffindor common room, dancing like a fool and having the time of your life while making heart eyes at Oliver Wood. It takes a moment, but once he’s processed that you are indeed making eye contact with him, he gives you a one-over from head to toe before raising a single eyebrow.</p><p>You firmly believe that a movement so small has absolutely no right to be as attractive and knee-weakening as that glance was.</p><p>After standing still for a few seconds too long, blushing and probably still grinning like you’re mad, you turn back around to your friends and quickly relay whatever the hell it was that just happened. Of course, they reply in squeals and screams of excitement, and you’re really too dazed to try and shush them. They take this as a sign to encourage you further.</p><p>“Go on,” Alicia yells out to you. “Go over there and talk to him!” You shake your head, though the smile remains on your face.</p><p>“Yes! Yes, you have to go talk to him now,” Angelina pushes. “You’ve been mooning over him for over a year, now’s the perfect opportunity to flirt with him!” You laugh a bit as Katie takes your hand, too excited - and drunk - to speak but encouraging enough to dance in celebration with you. As she pulls you into a dance with her, you shake your head at the other two girls.</p><p>“There’s a reason I’m not a Gryffindor, ladies!” You call out over the music. “I much prefer staying safe over here where I don’t risk utter humiliation.” Angelina rolls her eyes at that.</p><p>“Oh, please,” she says. “Before now, I was pretty sure Oliver didn’t have a romantic or sexual bone in his body.” You blush at her wording, but let her continue. “But now here he is, watching you and giving you eyes and you’re saying no? Don’t be mad! Just go!” </p><p>And with that she grabs your shoulders and pushes you out of the crowd before giving you one last shove in his direction. Alicia and Katie wave you on from behind her, giving cheers that can barely be heard over the noise. And maybe it’s the alcohol in your system or maybe it’s the rallying from your friends, but after you take a deep breath and roll your shoulder back, you spin around to face Oliver again.</p><p>He’s no longer looking at you, his gaze focused on Percy, but it takes only a second for his eyes to lift back to yours. He seems surprised by the fact that you’re looking back, and you simply smile at him. Sure, from a distance you have no problem smiling and looking, but suddenly, as his eyes meet yours, you find yourself having great difficulty actually walking up to him. </p><p>You stare at him for a moment longer before your eyes drift over to the Weasley twins over by the drink table. You quickly head their way, hoping that another drink in your system will provide some more of that infamous Gryffindor courage.</p><p>“Well, well, if it isn’t the little Raven,” George croons when you walk up to them. “Here for another drink already?” You give him a smile before pouring yourself a small glass of firewhiskey.</p><p>“Careful there, love,” Fred says from your other side. “That stuff’s stronger than you think.” You don’t respond, simply give a wink to his flushed face and lift the glass, downing the drink in one go. Fred’s eyebrows meet his hairline and George cheers from beside you.</p><p>“Don’t worry Fred,” you say with a slight slur to your words. “I can handle myself just fine.” He laughs at this before raising a challenging eyebrow.</p><p>“Is that so? Then do you think you’d be able to handle a little game of ours? We’ve been getting a group of people together to play.” Normally if put into this situation, you would ask what game, who’s playing, and what the rules are before agreeing to anything. Now, though, none of those questions cross your mind before you’re grinning up at him with a confident, “of course!”</p><p>After filling your glass once more, you rushed back over to your dancing friends who, once you mentioned a game that the twins want to play, completely forgot about the Oliver-related mission they sent you on. You followed them over to the couches where Fred and George were sitting along with several other students your age. </p><p>It wasn’t until you sat on one of the couches, squished between Alicia and Katie, that you noticed Oliver Wood sitting on one of the armchairs. He seems to have noticed you as well, though your eyes don’t make contact this time. As you stare at him, he seems to be staring at your shirt. Your alcohol-addled mind doesn’t register any possible reason for this, and so you mentally shrug and turn to look at Fred - or is that George? - standing on the table in front of everyone, holding a bottle in his hand.</p><p>“Ladies and gentleman, may I present the most important player in this game of ours - the bottle!” With that, he hopes off the table and places the glass bottle down where was just standing. “And remember, no magic!” And with that, he flicks his wrist and sends the bottle spinning in a rapid circle.</p><p>It doesn’t click in your mind what game you’re playing until Fred - George? - walks over to Angelina sitting on the arm of your couch and kisses her. While everyone else starts cheering, your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. What the bloody- Oh, but of course. Of course the twins roped you into playing this game and of course you let your drunken pride win you over at his challenge.</p><p>You sigh, leaning back into the couch. Alicia and Katie, cheering as they are, are much too crowded into you and while you’d usually have your hands placed on either side of you, that’s not possible when both girls are practically on your lap. And so, unsure of what else to do, you shove your hands down the waistband of your skirt, letting your thumbs hook out over the edge so as not to make it look too weird.</p><p>After many more seconds than probably appropriate, Fred - definitely Fred - and Angelina pull away, faces flushed and grins wide. You’re happy for them, truly, as they both seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed the kiss, but your primary emotion right now is dread. Please, you think, fingers pressing into your thighs, please don’t let the bottle land on me.</p><p>For a while, your prayers are answered. There are some awkward moments like when Lee Jordan’s spin lands on George - though they handle it like champs - and an even more awkward moment when George’s consequent spin lands on Fred. Some eyebrows are raised and most of you laugh at their disgusted expressions, but no one complains when George spins again.</p><p>Eventually, though, your luck runs out. It’s Harry’s turn now - he was unfortunate enough to have George’s spin land on him - and your stomach turns to lead as the tip of the bottle stops right in front of you.</p><p>You stare at it for a moment, ears red and brain malfunctioning, until Katie jostles your shoulders and you look up to see Harry right in front of you. His face is as red as yours as he sits on the table in front of you, eyes awkwardly looking anywhere but your face. Taking a deep breath, you tap his knee and give him a smile.</p><p>“Hey, we’ll be fine, yeah? I mean, one of us is really lucking out here.” He gives a bit of a grimace at that, clearly misunderstanding your insinuation. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair. I mean, I guess I’m also kissing the chosen one. That’s not so bad either, eh?” He, along with everyone else who heard it, laughs at your joke and leans in, all hesitation gone.</p><p>You will admit, Harry is a better kisser than you would have thought. Sure, it’s a little awkward and all, but technique-wise he’s got it down. You stay kissing for a few seconds, lips only moving slightly, before you pull away with a grin and a wink.</p><p>“No bad, Potter. Ginny’s got something to look forward to.” You say this quietly enough that he’s the only one to hear you, which you’re sure he appreciates as his cheeks turn even more red than before. He clears his throat and stands, quickly heading back to his seat.</p><p>“Oi,” Ron calls out from next to his best friend, grinning and nudging his elbow into his side. “What’d you say to Harry that’s got him so embarrassed?” You give a lazy grin to Ron, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees.</p><p>“A girl never kisses and tells, Weasley.” With that you lean over the table, gripping the bottle and giving it a quick flick that sends it spinning. You almost forget to be nervous as you watch it spin, temporarily forgetting what it means when the bottle inevitably stops.</p><p>You’re quickly reminded when it stills, neck and mouth undeniably leading to the one and only Oliver Wood. The two of you haven’t made eye contact since before the game started, but you’ve certainly stolen looks at him and his maroon jumper, just as you’ve noticed him stealing looks at you. You’re not sure why ( that’s a lie. You definitely know why), but you can’t help but feel relief at the fact that the bottle has yet to land on him. You’re fairly certain your heart would not have reacted positively to seeing him kiss another person, despite the fact that you’ve never kissed him yourself.</p><p>That fact is about to change, it seems, when Oliver finally looks up and notices the bottle pointing to himself. He looks at it for a moment, processing what’s going on, before looking up at locking his eyes onto yours. There’s an odd tension between the two of you, one that has no right to be there when you’ve hardly spoken to the guy. Yet when you look at him, no blushing grins this time, your stomach feels like a balloon has expanded inside of you and has no room to grow but is trying anyway.</p><p>Slowly you rise from the couch, ignoring the cheers and whistles from your friends. Not once do you break eye contact with Oliver as you walk over to him, stopping right before him, your bare knees brushing his through his trousers. </p><p>You look down at him, debating how to go about this, when you realize this is too awkward of an angle for you to lean down without giving the whole room a view up your skirt. With a tilt of your head, you make a decision that seems logical in the moment and hold your skirt to the back of your thighs before turning and placing yourself right in his lap.</p><p>The whistles grow louder at this, and when you finally build up the courage to look at Oliver’s face you see his cheeks more red than before. His eyes are wide and his lips slightly parted with his hands hovering over your waist as though he’s not sure where to put them. You smile gently, finding his uncertainty adoring. He really is cute when he’s not too busy looking unfairly fit and confident in every other situation.</p><p>Reaching for his hands, you gently place yours on top of his and guide them to your waist, letting go when you feel his grip tighten. You watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows, eyes looking down at his hands on you before flickering back up to your face. You notice his gaze catching on your lips and your tongue slips out to wet your bottom lip.</p><p>“Hey,” you whisper, pulling his attention from your mouth and back up to your eyes. </p><p>After a moment in which he swallows once more, he replies with a shaky, “Hi.” You raise your hand to cup his cheek, smile not faltering once.</p><p>“You ok with this?” You ask, not wanting to rush in if he isn’t comfortable. He seems confused for a moment as he looks at you, eyes searching your own. You can pinpoint the moment he finds it because his gaze intensifies and he sets his jaw before raising a hand from your waist to grip the back of your head. Before you can say anything else, he gently pulls you forward and meets your mouth with his own.</p><p>It’s difficult to describe this kiss with Oliver. It’s stillness and then pressure, rhythm and breathing as he tilts his chin with soft little jabs. You can’t quite figure out where to put your noses, but then you do and it’s comfortable and right. You realize your eyes are still open and your hands are placed awkwardly on top of his and so you move. Your eyes close and one hand rests against his chest, solid and warm, while the other snakes up to the crook where his shoulder meets his neck. </p><p>He’s everywhere now, up your back and over your arms and the nape of your hair and you’re sure you’re probably doing everything wrong but you can’t bring yourself to care because his tongue is in your mouth, and sweet Merlin, he tastes like firewhiskey and sugar and something distinct.</p><p>When you finally separate, it’s from lack of breath and nothing else. If it were up to you, you’d suffocate in his mouth and kiss him until your lips were numb. But alas, air is required and so you pull back, pulling in deep breaths and staring at Oliver, eyes wide. He’s breathing just as heavily as you are, eyes dark and deep and flickering all over you. Finally, his gaze rests on your shirt before slowly lifting back up to your own, a crooked smile on his face.</p><p>“You look good in my shirt, lass.” His voice is husky and deep and so you nod along, the words not entirely processing until a second too late. But by the time you realize, he’s glancing over your shoulder, cheeks turning red as he takes in the crowd around you. You flush as well when you remember that you’re in the middle of a game, not your dorm room, and you quickly jump up from his lap, brushing down your skirt as you clear your throat.</p><p>As you look down at yourself, you also remember that you’re wearing the quidditch jersey Katie found for you and suddenly Oliver’s words make sense. Your head snaps up to his, eyes wide as you take in his embarrassed yet pleased look. Before he can meet your eyes, you turn quickly around and walk back to your seat, letting yourself sink as deep into the couch as you can.</p><p>Katie and Alicia are still cheering beside you, patting your shoulder and knee in congratulations, but you ignore them entirely, too focused on fingering the material of the shirt you’re wearing. Oliver’s shirt you’re wearing.</p><p>Eventually the whooping and whistling quiet down as the game starts up again. You don’t speak or meet anyone’s eyes, too busy replaying the kiss in your head again and again. It isn’t until everyone’s attention is focused on Hermione and Ron that you dare look over at Oliver.</p><p>Immediately, your cheeks burn as you find that he’s already staring back at you. His face looks thoughtful and his mouth quirks into a soft grin as you meet his eyes. You blink, trying to decide if you want to look away or not, when he pushes himself up off his chair and starts heading for the portrait hole. </p><p>Your eyes follow him as he walks away and you watch as he turns around once, raising his eyebrows as he smiles at you, before pushing open the door and disappearing from the common room. Everyone else in your group seems too drunk or distracted to really notice his absence, and so when the next round starts and Hermione manages to land on Ginny, you quietly excuse yourself to Katie and Alicia before following Oliver out of the common room.</p><p>Once you’re standing in the hall, you look around, spotting a lone figure standing in a patch of moon light in front of a window. You smile at his pretty figure before quietly walking over, taking your time to enjoy looking at him. His face is tilted up into the light of the moon as he takes deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth. You notice the window is slightly open and a light breeze ruffles his short hair.</p><p>He doesn’t react when you come to stand beside him, looking out the window over the grounds. You see the edge of the Black Lake and the start of the Forbidden Forest, bathed in silver shadows. It’s peaceful, gazing out at familiar beauty with Oliver by your side.</p><p>He’s the first to speak. “You know, I’d been wondering where my jersey disappeared to. It bothered me for most of the night.” He tilts his head towards you, scanning your face with a tilted smile. “Then I saw you dancing in it and I found that I really don’t mind.”</p><p>You look up at him, cheeks pink as you play with your fingers. “I didn’t know it was yours. Katie was going to give me something Gryffindor to wear and said she found this.” You shrug one shoulder, feeling shy. “If I had known it was yours…” You trail off as one of Oliver’s hands reaches up and brushes against your cheek as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His hand stays there, gently pushing your face up to look at him.</p><p>“Would you have worn it? If you knew it was mine, would you still have put it on?” You stare at him for a moment, thinking. Eventually, you smile.</p><p>“Well, I think I would have been a bit more embarrassed about it, but probably.” Your hand brushes down the front of the shirt and you give Oliver a cheeky grin. “It’s pretty comfortable after all, and smells like-” You cut yourself off, cheeks turning even more pink. Oliver raises an eyebrow in amusement.</p><p>“Smells like what, lass?” You chuckle awkwardly and try to look away, but Oliver's hand on your cheek stops you. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and meet his eyes.</p><p>“It smells really nice. Like earth and pine and… well, you, I guess.” His grin widens at your words and he leans in, brushing his nose against yours. Your breath stutters and your eyes flutter closed at the contact. You can smell the sugar and firewhiskey on his breath.</p><p>In the moment that he hesitates, you decide you’ve waited long enough and push up on your toes until your nose slides against his and your mouth touches his once more. His kiss is like talking with his jaw moving and lips parting slightly. He tilts his chin into yours and then pulls it back only to press further against you. </p><p>Your hands reach up and grab his jumper, tugging gently until he takes another step closer, pressing his body against yours. You let out a sigh at the contact and he reacts to it immediately, hands reaching around your waist to pull you impossibly closer. His kisses become fervent, mouth opening wider until finally his tongue presses against yours and a chill runs down your back.</p><p>The two of you stand there, snogging and sighing for an unknown amount of time. No matter how long it was, though, you know it wasn’t nearly enough. You pull back, out of breath but still clinging to him as he presses a quick kiss against your cheek, your nose, your chin, your jaw. His mouth moves down, pressing gentle kisses across your neck and beneath your ear, nipping at it gently before moving further down.</p><p>Your hands grip his arms tightly, feeling the solid muscle from years of playing quidditch. Without warning, a giggle erupts from your mouth, followed by an unending stream of laughter. He pulls back, slightly confused but smiling right along with you. You press your head against his chest and he wraps his arms around you, swaying you gently side to side. Your laughter soon dies down until you’re smiling gently against him, feeling warm and safe and happy.</p><p>“I hope you know I’m not letting go of you anytime soon.” You giggle again, feeling his words in your hair.</p><p>“Do you mean right now or long term, Wood?” He squeezes you tighter and you feel his cheek rest against the top of your head.</p><p>“Both. I knew I wanted you to be mine as soon as I saw you dancing, wearing my jersey and smiling at me.” You blush as your stomach flips, pleased and excited by his words. You pull back just enough that you’re able to look up at him, his arms still wrapped tightly around you.</p><p>“And before that? Before you saw me wearing your jersey, how did you feel?” He grins down at you as his thumb rubs gently over your lower back. You shiver at his touch but wait patiently for an answer.</p><p>“Well, before that I was stuck trying to come up with a reason to talk to you. But then you show up wearing one and I couldn’t look away.” Your cheeks flush and you tuck your head back into his chest, feeling his laughter in his rumbling chest. A light kiss is pressed to the top of your head and you smile against the wool of his jumper.</p><p>“You never need a reason to talk to me,” you mumble against him. “Even if it’s complete gibberish, I’ll always love hearing you talk.” He laughs again and rests his chin on your head.</p><p>“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, love.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ok the ending for this doesn't seem entirely complete, so if you want to see this continued a bit then let me know. I can do like moments throughout their relationship, the process of them officially getting together, a first date, etc. Whatever pleases the masses!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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